


Teeth, Bones, Blood…Flesh

by GretchenSinister



Series: The Cavity Serial Killer Two-Parter [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Cannibalism, F/M, threat of teeth extraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22611271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Tooth thinks Pitch’s pointy sharkteeth are fascinating. So she takes them.All of them. One by one."I wrote this as a sequel to this fill. Pitch invites Tooth to his house to share his harvest feast. The evening doesn’t go how he planned at all. Ends with some uncertainty as to whether the scenario explicitly stated in the prompt actually happens.PLEASE NOTE: this is about cannibals.
Relationships: Pitch Black/Toothiana
Series: The Cavity Serial Killer Two-Parter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626916
Kudos: 9
Collections: Cavity Short Fics





	Teeth, Bones, Blood…Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 10/17/2015.

“I knew I could count on you to have a very well-equipped house,” Tooth said cheerfully. “Well, that is, I suspected. I’ve been wrong before, and I’ve just had to make do. Actually I’ve been wrong every time before. So many people just don’t live up to the bones inside of them, and their teeth lie. But yours don’t!” She shot him a gleeful grin. “I’m going to have to treat you very specially, very carefully. Oh…” She placed her hand over her heart. “Your teeth are just so _sharp_. Almost like a shark’s!” She giggled. “But, of course, even as perfectly evolved superpredators, sharks are endangered. Now! You just wait here, and I’ll go get my particular tools. It’s great that you let me drive here on my own, it’s kind of heavy to carry everything in my purse. See you soon!”  
  
Pitch looked up at his basement ceiling from the modified dentist’s chair in which he was restrained. This really wasn’t how he had expected the evening to go. At all. True, at this point things were still rather exciting but the ropes around his wrists and ankles were really too tight for him to easily hope that there might be future exciting evenings for him. Tooth was much, much stronger than she looked. After all, she had carried him down here from the kitchen, and as feeling returned to his limbs, he didn’t feel like he had been dragged. He sighed. He shouldn’t have let his guard down, even—no, especially—with someone he felt could be invited to his harvest feast. He had thought that she suffered from more of a compulsion than he did, he had thought she was newer at this, he had thought she was frightened of herself.  
  
It was thrilling to be proved wrong, but, again, his current position made it a pointless discovery.  
  
He couldn’t escape without Tooth’s help, so he devoted his attention to re-creating the night so far and trying to glean any useful information he could from it. She had to have drugged him at some point—oh, she definitely could have slipped something in his drink when he had been carving the meat for dinner, that always drew his full attention, it had to be perfect to make it worth it. He had thought she would be just as entranced, but of course the kill had not been hers. It would not have necessarily met her ideas of perfection, and she would have known that upon agreeing to join him. It had been very risky on her part to drug his drink while he had a carving knife in his hand—if he had noticed, he wouldn’t have stood for it—but it had paid off for her and, considering the outcome, could not be improved upon.  
  
Yes, that must have been what happened. After a few bites of fresh meat, Pitch could hardly tell white wine from red; it wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t noticed anything amiss until he was slumping forward on the table as his vision fuzzed out.  
  
Pitch heard her light footsteps on the stairs and adrenaline flooded his body again, and more effectively this time, now that the drugs were wearing off. With effort, he avoided wasting his strength against his bonds. It wouldn’t get him free, and he didn’t want to chafe his wrists to bleeding, not until he knew how the sight of blood affected Tooth.  
  
What he _did_ want, more than anything, was to regain control of the situation. Gain it for the first time. Whatever. It was a distinction finer than the small tools Tooth was pulling from a large black leather bag now. Pitch really wasn’t sure if he would have preferred that they were larger. Tooth was clever. It probably didn’t matter.  
  
“Okay okay okay!” Tooth said, briskly wheeling a small tray over to him. “We’re almost ready to start! Now, do you mind if I talk? You’re so nice and quiet! That never happens! Usually people insist on making so much noise and I have to make the end cut first.” She pulled back his gums and lightly touched his teeth. “So beautiful. I hope you’re not being quiet because you think you’re getting away. You’re not, you’re really not.”  
  
“You wound me,” Pitch said dryly. She giggled, and he felt rather proud of himself. So, he could still apparently distract her—and she also was very lovely when she giggled.  
  
“I love a man with a sense of humor,” she said. “So far they’ve all lost it by this point.”  
  
This was probably not a real compliment but simply something meant to intimidate him. Pitch winked at her and smirked, flashing his teeth at the end of the expression. She briefly raised her eyebrows. “Well, anyway,” she said, “I’m glad you’re quiet, because we both have some similar interests, and I never get to talk to anyone like that. We don’t have the exact same approach, naturally, you seem to have a thing with the idea of harvest, and that’s quite interesting, because sharks and wolves and such predators don’t follow cycles like that.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Bears, though…I can see you fattening yourself up for the winter.”  
  
“I’m not an ordinary predator,” Pitch said, trying to distract himself from the idea of her picturing him growing full to satiation on human flesh. Or of her watching the actual process? Ah, yes, that was even more…ah… _compelling_ …wasn’t it? “I’m the thing that eats bears.”  
  
“Oh, I’d imagine they’d be drawn to you like flies to honey,” Tooth said.  
  
This startled a laugh out of Pitch. “Past evidence suggests you’re right,” he said. That had been a much easier evening.  
  
She grinned with her bone-cracking teeth. “Anyway, that’s you. Myself, I see people’s teeth. Everyone has killing potential in their teeth. But usually it’s fairly weak. I’ve been concentrating it in myself for a while, now. And even though teeth aren’t bones, bones are important, too. Without the bones, teeth would have no power. This is literal, but it’s also true in a metaphorical way—you know, the skeleton as a symbol of death, which no one can escape from, and without that death inside the killing power of teeth wouldn’t mean a thing. Blood is also very important, because the bones make it. Also it’s a simply beautiful color.” Her eyes closed for just a moment. “Everything else—well, that’s just to avoid being wasteful.”  
  
A laugh with more than a touch of hysteria in it filled the back of Pitch’s throat. Wasn’t there a nursery rhyme that touched on a similar situation? He had no use for teeth and bones, and though he also admired the aesthetic of fresh blood, he rarely consumed it. “You don’t relish it, then?” He asked. Maybe he could work with this information. But he’d have to talk fast. Tooth’s eyes were lingering less on him and more on her tools, now.  
  
“No,” she mused. “Not enough to go through all the trouble it takes to get it.”  
  
“How curious,” Pitch said, speaking in a voice just slightly lower than usual. “I find I prefer flesh above all else.” He smiled over at her.  
  
She stared back at him, only reacting to reach unthinkingly toward his mouth again. _Damn it._ She really was that distracted by his teeth. If he couldn’t figure another way out, he’d have to try to use that, bite her fingers off if he could. Even though she was quicker than he was, it wasn’t as if it could make the situation worse. It was a pity, though, since she had such nice, slim fingers—why did they have to be used to hold equipment to pull his teeth out?  
  
She pulled her hand back, as if sensing some or all of what he was thinking. “You’re really amazingly self-composed in this situation,” she said. “You act like a killer even when you’re about to be killed. I hope some of that comes to me with your teeth, with your bones. As you may have noticed, I’m not always the most steady person in a room.”  
  
So, that hadn’t been an act? She was taking so many risks, then! He would have to tell—no, critique would come later, and only if there was a later. “It’s a well-honed tal—” He choked in the middle of his sentence, not because of anything Tooth had done to him directly, but because she had stepped away and casually stripped off her dress, stockings, and underwear. She hadn’t been wearing a bra. She folded her clothing neatly and walked away with it toward the stairs.  
  
“I didn’t bring a change of clothing,” she said. As she walked back, she twisted her long black hair into a neat bun. The process was fascinating. Pitch dearly hoped that she wouldn’t reveal herself to be the type who would punish him for becoming aroused, because if this was how she planned to proceed, his erection was going to last all the way until it became a post-mortem priapism.  
  
If Pitch could have thought analytically for a moment, he would have been able to note that this was new and clarifying information regarding his sexual interest: it was only a factor in certain highly unusual and specific circumstances. But he could not think analytically at the moment, as Tooth was lifting one of his long khaki jackets from its hook on the wall. “I think I’ll wear this,” she said and shrugged it on. “I like blood on my skin, but having a significant amount of your blood on your jacket will confuse any investigation.” She didn’t fasten the coat, and as she returned to Pitch’s side it dragged behind her like some kind of queenly train. It was a view that didn’t exactly help Pitch plan his escape.  
  
She stood next to Pitch and reached for his mouth again with one hand. The other fumbled among her tools. Her lips parted, and Pitch dared a glance that showed him her nipples, dark on her nearly-flat chest, were quite hard. From the cold of the basement? From being so close to the teeth she wanted so much? Did it matter that it was him, personally, in the chair before her? Did it matter that he was another predator? “Wait!” he said, her fingers just out of reach. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you think I won’t bite off your fingers? I haven’t yet, but you’re making me a little desperate.” In more than one way, but that wasn’t quite relevant at this instant. “Maybe you’ll be fast enough, maybe you won’t. Have you never done a live extraction? I know—believe me, I know, that you can kill me like this. But the loss of a finger is still permanent.”  
  
She paused, and looked at him, her focus regained.  
  
“Look,” he continued. “I know you want to hunt predators. You want the power they have. But that’s dangerous for you to do alone. Not all of them will be so…besotted. The circumstances won’t always be this perfect. And what of the ones who turn out to be ordinary? There will be many, and—and doesn’t it take so long, to consume them alone—especially when that’s not what you love about it?”  
  
“You’re suggesting we hunt together,” Tooth said. She stepped back and looked him up and down, smirking when she met his eyes again. “And you want more than that.”  
  
“I don’t deny it,” Pitch said.  
  
“And I won’t deny that I haven’t been acutely aware of the danger I place myself in,” Tooth said. “I won’t deny that you make some valid points as you’re fighting to survive. Unfortunately, though…” She slid her hands up Pitch’s neck to cup his jaw and looked him directly in the eyes. “I really, really, really want your teeth.”  
  
“Is there no other way you would have them?” Pitch asked. He held her gaze, not glancing towards her tools even once.  
  
“I—I don’t know for sure,” she said. This close, Pitch could see how wide her pupils were in the dark brown of her eyes. She chuckled, and with surprising grace, swung herself on top of Pitch. She smiled at him, in his coat and nothing else, pliers in her hand and blood on her mind. “But I’ll give you one chance to convince me.” She shifted against his clothed erection. “Do you think you can manage to make me think you should live and keep your teeth in your head? Do you think you can do so from this chair?”  
  
If not, what a way to go! “Since I have eaten meat recently,” he said, “might I interest the lady in two or three chances in quick succession?”  
  
She tapped his cheek with her pliers and he inhaled sharply. “I’ll take all the convincing you can manage,” she said.

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> #dead dove do not eat
> 
> ksclaw said: aww yisss cavity cannibals!


End file.
